On the Anatomy of Trust
by readerofasaph
Summary: Oikawa had no idea how to count his blessings. Hajime would never be that generous again. But the next time they fought, they knew how to stop without it being awful; and the next time, and the next time after that. Like a dance, like a volleyball set. As if they'd practised so hard that now, finally, they


**I.**

Hajime's no storyteller, but if he were, this is how he'd tell this story:

When they were eight years old, during the Tanabata Festival, Oikawa Tooru gave him chickenpox.

Oikawa had been irritable all week, which the grown-ups put down to summer heat, overexcitement, and too little sleep from staying up watching fireworks and eating lollipops. Even back then Oikawa liked to get worked up about things. Hajime hadn't yet developed the habit of hitting Oikawa every time he went too far – that coping strategy evolved into being some years later – and so he glared or snapped back every time Oikawa whined, with the result that both of them were thoroughly cranky by the time the festivities were over.

On the way back home, Oikawa announced, "I have a headache."

"No, you don't," said Hajime, just to be contrary. He was in a terrible mood by then. The celebrations and decorations and noise had been wonderful but now they had ended and he was stuck in the back seat of the car with Oikawa.

"Yes I do," said Oikawa. "I've had a headache since dinner."

"You didn't say anything at dinner." Not about a headache, anyway. At dinnertime Oikawa had been complaining about many other things, mostly about how upset he was that Hajime was better at goldfish-scooping and shooting games.

"I'm saying it _now_."

Oikawa's sister told him to shut up then, and that she would get him some pain syrup when they got home, which was good because then Oikawa started whining about how he hated the taste of pain syrup, and Hajime could just turn and look out the car window, at the landscape and the fields and the last dying traces of daylight. Somehow they made it back to their houses without another fight.

The next day Oikawa had a rash across his belly and called Hajime at seven in the morning to tell him about it.

"It itches," Oikawa complained.

"Go see a doctor," said Hajime.

"My cousin had chickenpox last week," said Oikawa. "Maybe I've caught it from her."

"Is that serious?" Hajime didn't know much about chickenpox, only that it was catching.

"I think it hurts and it itches and you get little blisters all over. I'm going to scratch my rash," Oikawa told Hajime. "My sister told me not to, but it's too itchy."

"You shouldn't scratch rashes." Hajime at least knew _that_ much. "They're like mosquito bites, you'll make them worse."

"But I always scratch my insect bites," Oikawa objected, before saying he had to go. "My mother's taking me to the doctor. See you this afternoon, Iwa-chan."

But of course the doctor diagnosed chickenpox and Oikawa was not allowed to leave the house or see Hajime, until a week later, when Hajime came out with his own bright red spread of sore and irritated blisters, all over his arms and legs and cheeks.

He had it much worse than Oikawa, who was beginning to recover by then. Oikawa still had crusting spots on his elbows and knees when he came over to visit, but they weren't nearly as gross as Hajime's own blisters. Hajime had oozing lesions everywhere (even though he never scratched them) and painful ulcers on the inside of his ears and cheeks and he ended up with small scars on his face and body that didn't fade until the end of elementary school.

(Oikawa didn't scar at all.)

Their vacation was quite ruined; and due to being infectious they had no one to spend the rest of August with but each other. Hajime's mother made endless bowls of okayu for them to eat. They popped each other's blisters and got scolded for it and Oikawa's sister made them apply antiseptic ointment everywhere there was broken skin; the medicinal scent of it hung in the air of Hajime's living room as they drank sweetened ginger tea and played with pick-up sticks and coloured glass marbles and Oikawa's Playstation 2.

They were friends before the chickenpox; after it, they were best friends, although they never called each other that. Not then, not later. And not now.

#

Nobody remembers how they first became friends.

They lived two blocks away from each other, so that was one reason to hang out. They were in the same class, that first year of elementary school, with a teacher, Hagino-sensei, who wore glasses and pinned her hair back in barrettes and smiled too much.

Like every teacher who came afterwards, she loved Oikawa. He chattered madly at her, he raised his hand every time she asked the class a question, he brought her posies of spring flowers. At six years old he was an accomplished flirt.

Oikawa was tall and swift, and good at games, though not as good as Hajime. Maybe that was why they managed to be each other's friends. Hajime was always a little stronger than Oikawa, that little bit steadier (not as steady as Oikawa believed, but steady enough for both of them).

Together, they ran fast and played hard. Girls and boys gathered around them, every recess, every lunch break. Years later, they even joined the volleyball club just to follow Oikawa, a trend that would continue with their classmates in every school they attended.

Hajime doesn't recall following Oikawa around in those early days. Mostly, he remembers being dragged.

#

When they were nine Oikawa decided to audition for Johnny's Entertainment. The decision was detailed in the utmost and involved, as he explained, Iwa-chan coming along with him. Many years later Hajime could not remember, no matter how he racked his memories, how Oikawa convinced him to take a bus to Sendai in the middle of winter. From there the plan was to catch the Shinkansen to Tokyo.

The journey itself Hajime recalled vividly; the roads and roofs all white and distant and the air painfully cold as they breathed it in. But it was warm inside the bus. Snow was falling on the highway in small cruel flakes and when it struck the window next to their bus seat it began to melt, so that their view of the outside world was filtered through a dappled, refracted confusion of melted-snow trickle.

Oikawa had stuffed his school backpack and Hajime's to the brim. Between the two of them they carried onigiri, Pocky, rice crackers, pyjamas and underwear, tissue papers, a Tokyo street map, a train timetable, the latest issue of Weekly Jump, a Gameboy Advance, enough cash to buy a Shinkansen ticket each, two mobile phones, a deck of playing cards, a pair of sunglasses, two water bottles, a vial of pain syrup, and a pack of adhesive bandages.

Hajime had brought along socks and a toothbrush, but was fairly certain Oikawa had forgotten those things.

Oikawa was carrying his MP3 player, chock-full of songs. It was all boy band music and all of it was horrible. Oikawa stuck one earphone bud into his ear and tried to make Hajime listen to the other, but Hajime endured only ten minutes before refusing to put up with it any longer.

Hajime was not particularly musical and he was sure that even if he were, he wouldn't be into NEWS or Arashi. Thanks to Oikawa he had already been forced to watch fifteen episodes of SMAP x SMAP this year. He was not going to spend the trip to Tokyo listening to relentlessly upbeat pop through one ear.

(Hajime did not expect to make it to Tokyo anyhow, given Oikawa's planning skills. But at least Hajime could call their parents if things got _too_ out of hand.)

Sure enough, after a quiet bus ride of munching Pocky sticks, Oikawa humming off-key for most of the journey – Hajime wondered how Oikawa planned to get _into_ Johnny's Juniors with those singing skills – and watching the world grow whiter and colder with snow – they got off at the train station and found that Oikawa had entirely underestimated the train fare for two children.

To make matters worse, Oikawa tried to make up for this by charming the ticket seller.

She did not appear to be charmed by the sight of two small boys trying to buy long-distance train tickets without any parents in sight.

"Where are your father and mother?" she asked Oikawa. "Do they know where you're travelling."

"Of course they do," answered Oikawa – but Oikawa wasn't very good at lying. The lady narrowed her eyes.

"Well maybe you should get them to buy rail passes for you and your friend."

Oikawa conceded defeat. "We'll come back," he said, turning away. "Come on, Iwa-chan."

They walked away across the concourse and ended up in front of the turnstile gates to the platforms, watching people hurry back and forth, endless streams of them, heavy-coated and laden with luggage and shopping bags.

Hajime was beginning to feel ill from eating too much honey and milk Pocky. "I'm going to call my mum," he said, pulling out his cellphone.

Oikawa swiped the mobile out of his hand. "No!" he said loudly. "I'll think of something."

"Like what?"

"We could borrow some money." Oikawa looked around them; Hajime suddenly realised how many grown-ups there were around them, looming and large and strange. Was Oikawa going to ask these people for money, the same way he asked girls at school to treat him to milk bread? It was the sort of thing he would do.

Still in its backpack, Oikawa's mobile rang.

They stared at each other at first and then Hajime glared at Oikawa and walked around and pulled the flap of Oikawa's backpack open and fished out the second cellphone. Oikawa didn't try to stop him this time.

It was Oikawa's sister calling. She didn't ask any questions. "Stay put," she ordered. "I'm ten minutes away from the station."

After Hajime hung up, Oikawa started to talk very quickly. "Let's run away." His eyes were wide and panicky. "I'll go to one end, and you can go to the other, and we can meet again tonight. I read a book last week where the detectives were trying to shake off the thieves and -"

Hajime grabbed the sleeve of Oikawa's jacket and dragged him over to the closest bench, where the two of them sat until two angry fathers and one angry older sister found them fifteen minutes later.

#

They were in trouble for weeks. Hajime was punished worse than Oikawa, which was usual. If Oikawa Tooru's parents had punished him as befitted his misdeeds he would have spent more time being punished than doing anything else, including sleeping and attending school.

Oikawa's mum and dad didn't know the half of it. In fourth grade Oikawa nearly got himself scratched to death by promising Kasumi-chan, Ryoko-chan_and_ Hotaru-chan that he would be their boyfriend, all in the space of two days.

The resulting row at lunchtime upset the entire school that Friday. Kasumi, who was the most sensible of the three, threw a bowl of soup at Oikawa. Luckily it was lukewarm and didn't scald. Hotaru was the prettiest girl in the year but she didn't cry prettily at all. Her nose was red and snotty and her eyes swelled up.

Ryoko didn't stop screaming until Hajime punched Oikawa. Then after that everyone fell silent. Oikawa had a bruised eye that lasted for weeks, gradually fading to yellow and then disappearing; the girls, quick to forgive Oikawa as all girls were, seemed to think he had been punished enough. (Hajime didn't agree, but he didn't want to give Oikawa another black eye either.)

Hotaru immediately changed the object of her affections from Oikawa to Hajime. She was a petite girl with long shining hair tied back in ribbons, and her lashes were wide and curling. Hajime thought she was cute but couldn't forget what a mess she'd looked, with her face all bright red and scrunched up and her nose dripping. If she'd been the one to throw soup at Oikawa he might have liked her better.

Oikawa explained to Hajime much much later, after a great deal of yelling and many more punches, that he was trying to be a Casanova, or a Genji. On further questioning it became clear that Oikawa wasn't exactly sure who Casanova was, and had only the vaguest set of ideas, mostly incorrect, about Hikaru Genji.

But it was useless worrying about what was inside Oikawa's head. Most of Oikawa's problems, Hajime learned as they grew older, could be solved with one good punch.

#

But of course it was not always Oikawa's fault.

Hajime liked to walk and to run, and he ran faster and walked further than any other boy they knew. Even regular volleyball practice (which they were attending everyday by then, in sixth grade) didn't use up all his energy and now that they were old enough to go on outings by themselves he and Oikawa went fishing and running and swimming whenever they had the chance.

Hajime's growth spurt began first and so for a wonderful short-lived two years he was taller than Oikawa. Oikawa complained dreadfully about it too (and later on, when the tables were turned, gloated without end).

They didn't notice the difference much, only when treks or mountain hikes went too long and too far. Even then this was more about personality than intrinsic strength. Hajime liked to move unceasingly, in unbroken lines and steady steps. His progress along mountain slopes and walking trails was always continuous and swift; neither obstacle nor distraction nor exhaustion ever diverted him from his goal until it was reached.

Oikawa on the other hand, was mercurial. At times his focus was so single-minded that he would reach the top of the trail long before Hajime did. At others, Oikawa would stop for any variety of reasons – he was tired, he was thirsty, he wanted to drink water from this waterfall, he wanted to photograph the sunrise from _that_ steep precipice, it was boring, Iwa-chan walked too fast, Iwa-chan walked too _slow_, Oikawa's girlfriend had just called, Oikawa wanted the two of them to sit down on that boulder and have a heart-to-heart and _discuss hopes and dreams_-

It was in those years that they fought, repeatedly, without Oikawa's sister to take charge or Hajime's mother to distract them. They had fights so horrid that looking back, Hajime thought they could have stopped being friends on any number of occasions.

And then Oikawa fell.

Hajime's memory of that afternooon: scattered yet intense. The maple trees bright red. The fallen leaves, dry and dead, crunching beneath their hiking boats. A trail so faint it was at times barely distinguishable among tree root and embedded stone and broken grass. Crickets roared in their ears.

He can't remember what they argued about, only that the slope was steep and he did not want to punch Oikawa when their footholds were so precarious and as a result Hajime's bad temper had nowhere to go. Instead he stormed off, scrambling up the steps and boulders at a speed he knew Oikawa could not keep up with. It wasn't the first time a fight had ended like this.

Hajime reached the top of the trail, and sat brooding at the lookout point, looking down at the slant of the mountain forest, the sweep of the fields, the unbearably blue sky. The wind blew against his face, cold and alive, until he was no longer angry.

Nearly an hour had passed before he began to worry about Oikawa. Even then he expected, as he began to descend, to find Oikawa perched on some ledge or tree trunk, sulking.

What he found, three hundred meters below, was Oikawa curled up on the path, dirt-smeared and pale with pain.

There were usually many hikers on that trail, but that day there were none for what seemed like forever. Oikawa had forgotten his cellphone and Hajime's had no signal.

They sat by a pine tree together until someone came and in the meantime the way Oikawa decided to deal with the pain of a broken ankle was to talk and to talk and to talk. Hajime was still cross with Oikawa but he was more angry at himself and he was frightened.

Maybe that was why they held hands.

Oikawa gripped Hajime's wrist so tightly it felt like the blood had stopped flowing to Hajime's fingers.

Eventually, passers-by arrived.

Hajime was nice to Oikawa for a whole two months afterwards. He had to stop after that, since Oikawa took shameless advantage. Hajime stopped being penitent after Oikawa tried to make him hand-peel grapes _and_ deliver love letters to Oikawa's girlfriend _and_ do Oikawa's homework, all in the one day.

Oikawa had no idea how to count his blessings. Hajime would never be that generous again. But the next time they fought, they knew how to stop without it being awful; and the next time, and the next time after that. Like a dance, like a volleyball set. As if they'd practised so hard that now, finally, they knew how to do it right.

**II.**

The fact was: they hadn't even begun to exhaust the ways it could all go wrong.

Oikawa tried many new and exciting things every year and mostly they did not stick. Volleyball stuck. It held Hajime's interest too, which helped. Oikawa didn't like doing things alone.

Entering Kitagawa Daiichi was an eye-opener. The coach there was very serious about volleyball and Oikawa absorbed his seriousness to the point where he was nearly obsessive about it. It took some months to get used to. But they enjoyed it and they kept going back.

Not much changed about Oikawa between elementary school and middle school – not as Hajime saw it, anyway. He was even more popular than he used to be and he liked to poke people where it hurt and he was clever and ridiculous and at least once a day Hajime felt the irresistible urge to hit him. Most days Hajime succumbed to that urge.

Even in first-year Oikawa was a very good setter and from the beginning he preferred to toss to Hajime. It was a habit that slowly corrected over time, as Oikawa got better at the game; by third year of middle school it came back only at certain times, when Oikawa felt uncertain – but it was a definite tendency, and never truly faded. When Kageyama Tobio arrived at their school he would notice it, and remember.

#

Hajime dreamed about Oikawa, sometimes. It would have been grosser if Hajime hadn't discovered himself capable, over a period of his most pubescent and awkward years, capable of having wet dreams about any number of things. The revolving cast included but was not limited to: homeroom teachers, Oikawa's sister, characters from ecchi manga, non-sentient tentacle monsters, gravure models, a younger version of Takuya Kimura (Hajime walked right up to Oikawa at volleyball practice that morning and socked him in the jaw), and even the occasional schoolmate, male or female, who wasn't Oikawa.

He never saw much connection between those dreams – vague and half-remembered, memorable only for the sticky embarrassed discomfort in which he woke up – and the adolescent urges of his waking state. He had his crushes and infatuations, from time to time. Mostly they were girls. Once or twice, they were guys.

In his head it seemed impossible to categorise Oikawa Tooru as the type of human being or entity one had actual crushes on. Logically, Hajime knew it happened: he saw the love letters; watched as Oikawa disappeared off to a garden or school rooftop every week to accept or reject each confession as they came – and they never stopped coming; was even begged sometimes to act as intermediary.

Unsurprisingly, many of these infatuations ceased within days of the girl (or boy) getting to know Oikawa. He was always getting dumped. Sometimes it was unintentional on Oikawa's part. More often than not though, Oikawa seemed to engineer or outright predict the departures of his many girlfriends.

"The only times you get dumped are when you want it to happen," Hajime grumbled at Oikawa in second year, when Oikawa was visiting his house with an ostensibly broken heart.

Oikawa pouted: a charming annoying insincere pout. He was taller than Hajime now, and clearly handsome. Hajime's mother sometimes commented on Oikawa's slim grace and sunny disposition.

Oikawa's _real_ disposition was more like a temperamental raincloud, but there was no use telling Hajime's mother that.

"You're supposed to be comforting me, Iwa-chan."

Considering that he was curled up on the sofa of Hajime's living room eating his third box of Meltykiss Chocolates, Oikawa didn't seem in much need of comforting. He'd seen Oikawa more upset from a toothache before, or a failed toss.

Volleyball.

Now _there_ was something that could actually upset Oikawa.

#

The first time they lost to Shiratorizawa Oikawa's response was a mere typical tantrum. A sulk in the locker room that evening. A shitty, mean mood for days afterwards - he made cutting remarks to everyone, he earned three volleyballs to the face plus two headbutts in the space of one weekend. Then his good humour gradually crawled back. Things went on as usual.

(He started practising a little harder, a little longer - but that sort of thing was encouraged at Kitagawa Daiichi, and Hajime hadn't liked losing either.)

The second time was different. It was the beginning of something. Oikawa was nervous before the match and Oikawa was never nervous. Not like this.

Hajime was nervous too. But he didn't hate playing Shiratorizawa. They were the one team in the prefecture who were really, properly good.

Hajime had improved since entering middle school and it was no secret among the volleyball club that they, Kitagawa Daiichi, considered themselves a strong team. But the guys from Shiratorizawa were something different. Their fitness was better. Their basic skills were better. They had better coordination.

The way Shiratorizawa played was what volleyball should look like. Could look like. Hajme wasn't even close to playing like that.

Neither was Oikawa. It frustrated Oikawa a lot. Hajime knew, because he was frustrated too. But they had trained for a year since the first loss and they were better now. They had prepared. They'd done the best they could.

But Ushijima Wakatoshi had done his own training, and he had improved too.

Well before the first set was over, they'd lost all hope of winning.

To begin with Oikawa fought hard. He'd never been the sort to give up in the face of apparent defeat. He remained the steadiest of the team, even as point after point eluded them, as spike after spike went into their court. He was their setter, and he kept them together.

The faltering began in the second set – but even that was subtle. An out-of-bounds serve. Tosses that came a little too slow, then a little too fast. A tendency to pass to Hajime more often than Oikawa should have – and Hajime wasn't always ready, and knew it. He wasn't strong enough either.

And he hated it. As much as Oikawa did.

Afterwards, Oikawa cried. Not the loud, snotty tears that Hajime was used to. But something quieter and more alone. It was something Hajime couldn't solve with a punch.

It was something Hajime couldn't solve at all.

#

Oikawa was restless. It happened to be that for a good chunk of his teenage years, Oikawa's restlessness ended up settling upon Kageyama Tobio. But even if that hadn't happened, Oikawa would have been restless and he would have been insecure.

It wasn't like Oikawa had a complex about most things; Hajime would really have kicked him to death then. But it wasn't often that Oikawa really really _wanted_ something. And it was even less often that he truly wanted something and then couldn't get it.

It took Oikawa a long time to get over it. It took years. But in the end it wasn't bad that it happened.

#

Over the course of time volleyball earned the two of them an enviable reputation, firstly at Kitagawa Daiichi and then at Aobajousai. Partly this was because the sport had a firm tradition at both schools. Partly this was Oikawa, who was destined to be popular wherever he went.

Clusters of girls came to every match they played and the dates and results of their games were common knowledge in all their classes - far better known than say, the baseball team or the soccer team.

Volleyball and Oikawa, Oikawa and volleyball - these two things shaped Hajime's middle school and high school experience. They were of course not the only things Hajime cared about. Unlike Oikawa, he felt the need to win, to excel at the sport, with fierce intensity but without his friend's cold desperation. And Oikawa Tooru was far from his only friend. Oikawa came first - Hajime was more than willing to admit this to himself even if admitting it aloud was hazardous and to be avoided - but there were other teammates, other classmates. Twice or thrice there was a girlfriend.

(Oikawa clearly hated all the girlfriends but tried his best not to behave badly, which always made things worse since Oikawa was pathetic at repressing his meaner urges. By the time Hajime broke up with his third girlfriend both of them were exhausted. Oikawa had managed not to make a fuss for six months and this effort appeared to be putting undue strain on his soul. Hajime just wanted Oikawa to throw a petty fit so that he could happily punch his friend in the face without reservation and without guilt. )

(Oikawa didn't mind the other friends - until they got too close and then he was cranky and made no attempt to disguise it. On those occasions Hajime _did_ sock Oikawa one.

But on the whole Hajime wasn't bothered by Oikawa's behaviour. There was space around the two of them for teammates, rivals, classmates, girlfriends. There was room for volleyball.

But as for the space between the two of them - that narrow, intimate, barely-there distance - it had always been fairly obvious. There was no place for anyone else to come in at all.)

#

Hajime did not find it so hard to admit (at least to himself) that he found Oikawa attractive. The dreams had provided him some early hints. With the passing of time came other clues. Plus it was no great mystery that he wanted, despite all the drawbacks, to be around Oikawa – his best friend, with laughter like warm honey and a sly, petty sense of humour and graceful limbs and smooth skin.

Taking things further wasn't something that occurred to Hajime, though. Things were complicated enough with Oikawa in plain unadorned friendship without putting sex into the equation. As a best friend Oikawa was high-maintenance but mostly satisfactory.

As a boyfriend, so far as Hajime could tell from years of observation, Oikawa was shallow and pleasant.

His girlfriends grew fewer and further between with time. By anyone else's standards they were still numerous. But they lost to Ushiwaka every year, and with every loss Oikawa dedicated a little more time to volleyball, a little less time to everything else.

If Hajime hadn't shared his feelings about volleyball, even their friendship would have suffered.

Somehow their friendship never ever took a genuine hit. There could have been opportunities. It was not comfortable being with Oikawa in changing rooms and communal baths, exposed to the draw of his good looks in heat and proximity and nakedness. It was not comfortable lying next to him in the dark of the night at training camps – or, even more difficult, in Hajime's own room during sleepovers.

It was not easy, but it was not unbearable either. Even though sometimes, Hajime thought that Oikawa _knew_.

There were the physical touches that seemed too prolonged and intentional. There were the knowing looks that Oikawa sometimes gave Hajime. But there was never more than that.

As if Oikawa didn't quite dare disturb the status quo. Hajime could understand that. Hajime didn't dare either.

#

The trouble with Tooru, Oikawa's sister had once explained to Hajime, is that in his head he's continuously starring in a movie titled _Oikawa Tooru: A Life._. Everyone else is just supporting cast.

Oikawa's sister wasn't wrong. There was just one thing: she didn't play volleyball.

There was another side to Oikawa, that was always observing everything and thinking and knew things about other people that they didn't know about themselves. Who had the ability to bring the team together. It was a side you didn't see as much, perhaps, if you'd never played with him on the court.

But if you played volleyball with him, then you knew.

He'd always been a better setter than Kageyama Tobio. It was hard for Hajime to ever see the tables turned. Even if Oikawa himself could see it, and feared it.

#

"I can't send you a toss like that," said Oikawa, after they played Hinata Shouyou for the second time.

"Why the hell. Would I need you to send me a toss like that," snarled Hajime.

Oikawa thought about it. "No reason at all? It's just that I _can't_, and I need to tell you that, and-"

Hajime kneed him in the stomach.

#

And so, it ended. Six years, countless wins – and a few losses, the losses that mattered. It was the first time Oikawa had ever been through something like this. To fight and fight and fight, and still not get what you want. Hajime wasn't used to it either. Even though he was a bit more familiar with the concept of limitations than Oikawa was, not being as clever or flashy or skilled.

It ended, and they were left to puzzle out what they would do and where they were going. College, yes, but where?

They didn't get into the same universities. They hadn't expected to.

"I miss you, Iwa-chan," Oikawa said suddenly, one winter afternoon when they were walking out to the shops. Snow fell around them; a light white fall. In years past they would have played in it, pelted each other with hard cold snowballs.

"I'm not even gone yet," Hajime objected, sticking his hands into his pockets to keep them warm.

"But it feels like you're already gone."

It was far too cold for Hajime to take his hands out of his pockets to hit Oikawa. "Stop spouting nonsense, you asshole."

"But I miss you."

Hajime did not reply. Around them, the street was quiet and free of pedestrians; eventually they turned off the sidewalk and took a shortcut through a park full of bare trees.

Oikawa kept talking: "I suppose there's always the holidays."

"Uh-huh."

"And we can travel together next summer."

"Sure."

"Will you be my boyfriend, Iwa-chan?"

That stopped Hajime short; he conveniently came to a stop just as a bout of wind shook the branches above them and sent a pile of snow falling onto the stone path along which they were walking. Now there was snow all over their heads and scarves and in Hajime's face. Oikawa didn't laugh.

"No," ground out Hajime.

"You're so mean," objected Oikawa.

"You're the one being ridiculous," he snapped back. Snow was melting against Hajime's throat and it felt _awful_. He took one hand out of his pocket in order to brush the snow away.

Oikawa said: "I thought you knew how I felt."

"No I didn't." He'd known but he hadn't known. Oikawa might be a mind-reader, might be able to tell people's weaknesses with a glance, but Hajime wasn't.

"Well, now you know."

"Now I know _what_?"

There was bright white snow glinting in Oikawa's hair and against the bright yellow of his scarf. "That I love you, Iwa-chan."

There it was. Oikawa had said it. Now it hung in the air, irreversible. It didn't leave Hajime with much of a choice.

He said, "Fine, I'll be your boyfriend," and then moved forward, forcing Oikawa to back up against the darkened bark of the nearest tree trunk. There was no one else in sight; they were quite alone. Oikawa's lips and cheeks were chilled with the winter air but the inside of his mouth was hot. Hajime kissed him for long moments – eyes closed, tongue against tongue, Oikawa's arms moving up to pull him closer.

When they could breathe again – it took a while - Oikawa said, "Are you sure?"

Hajime shrugged, more interested in kissing Oikawa again than in talking. "It's not the worst idea you've ever had." In fact, it barely ranked in the top fifty.

"Yes it is," objected Oikawa. "I'm scared."

Amazingly, he managed not to punch Oikawa. "Are you in love with me or not?"

"I am! That's why I'm scared. I'm not ready."

It really was far too wet and freezing to be having this conversation out here. "Well, what do you want, then?"

"Can you wait for me?"

"No," said Hajime. "What are you even asking me to wait for?"

Oikawa took a deep breath. In the winter light his eyes were piquant and dark and serious. "Okay. I'm sorry, Iwa-chan."

Somehow, Hajime felt guilty, even considering that Oikawa had been the one who created this whole confusing conversation. "It's fine. Whatever."

"I really do love you."

"I know," said Hajime, because yeah, now he knew. And believed it.

Somehow, they managed to continue their trip to the shops. They didn't talk much on their way there. Nor on their way back. Nor at school the next day.

**III.**

He arrived at university in the spring, and Oikawa wasn't there.

He'd expected it, of course. But twelve years of habits are not so easily unrolled. It was strange to play volleyball with a different setter, strange to sit next to someone else in lectures and tutorials. Strange to have no one to eat lunch with. Strange to not be barraged with ridiculous chatter on a daily basis.

Fairly quickly, he made friends. There were even other students from Aobajousai at his college too, and he found himself growing closer to them now that Oikawa and volleyball no longer defined the rhythm of his school life.

Once or twice, he nearly asked a girl out – only to be stopped by the fact that he remembered.

He'd told Oikawa that he wouldn't wait. But.

Exactly how long was Oikawa going to make him wait?

#

He started to find out, slowly, what other people had thought.

Miyako had dated Oikawa in junior high and then Hajime at Aobajousai and now she and Hajime attended early morning statistics lectures together. Sometimes, they met for coffee afterwards.

"Oikawa-kun emailed me the other night," she said, on one of those mornings. "He asked me how you were doing. I thought the two of you would keep in closer contact than that. Is something going on?"

Hajime shrugged. "Nothing's going on," he said. "We just haven't talked much."

She glanced at him. "How interesting. You know, that really surprises me. We girls used to talk a lot about the two of you, you know. I mean, so many of us had crushes on Oikawa-kun, and quite a lot of us had crushes on you."

"Seriously?"

"Of course, seriously. Did you think I went out with you because I didn't have any other options? " She pulled a face at him. She was exactly the sort of girl who had been Oikawa's type – pretty, witty, clever. Not unlike Oikawa himself. "Anyway, after all those years of gossiping about Oikawa-kun, I sort of came up with a theory of my own. You see, it always seemed to me like Oikawa-kun really needed you. And that you wanted him to need you. There was a kind of co-dependence there. Looking back, I'm not sure how accurate that theory was, but it seemed to fit at the time, you know?"

Hajime shrugged. "Maybe it fit. At the time. We've been friends for a long time, you know? It's not like things were always the same, all those years."

"I can see that." She sipped on her black coffee. "It's amazing to me that Oikawa-kun and you aren't talking. I didn't think he was capable of staying away from you. It always seemed like he needed someone to keep him in balance, and that someone was you."

"It wasn't exactly like that," said Hajime, even though he wasn't exactly sure how to explain how it had been.

He called Oikawa that night.

#

Oikawa picked up immediately. "Iwa-chan?"

Relief flooded through Hajime at the familiar sound of that voice. Then he felt irritated, because it was Oikawa who had created this situation, not him. But he suppressed the annoyance. "How are things going?"

"Good," said Oikawa. "Uni's been fantastic. I really like my volleyball team. And my housemates. I'm going to a mixer tonight. It's with these people from the debating club, and-" Oikawa kept on babbling, familiar and neverending and comforting. Hajime listened, and snapped at him when he made ridiculous statements about his professors or classmates. It was all the usual routine. He'd missed this.

They went on for about an hour like this and then they had to hang up because it was getting late. Before they ended the conversation Oikawa asked, "Iwa-chan, are you going to call again?"

"You can call next time," Hajime told him.

So Oikawa sent an email in the morning. And again in the afternoon. And then called the next evening.

Maybe Miyako _was_ right. Maybe Oikawa wasn't so good at staying away.

#

Until they met again, face-to-face, in the summer, they didn't talk about that conversation they'd had in winter.

Oikawa did seem to be doing well. University, life in the city, suited him in a way that high school hadn't. His life was a whirl of study and sports and social activity; no time to be despondent or reflective, no time to think about past failures in prefectural-level volleyball.

Hajime never asked him if he was seeing someone.

Oikawa didn't ask either.

Hajime too, enjoyed university but went about it at a far more sedate pace than Oikawa had. He played a lot of volleyball, but not as much as he used to. Eventually he formed his own circle of friends, none of them nearly as loud or dramatic or sly as Oikawa was.

Studying filled up the rest of the space. Hajime wasn't as smart as Oikawa was, and getting through the academic work was doable, but tough.

They talked at least once a week, and emailed the rest of the time. Slowly, gradually, a new rhythm of their friendship replaced the old one. But it felt temporary; it didn't feel permanent, or sustainable.

Summer took its time in coming.

#

They didn't get a chance to talk for the first three days because they were too busy catching up with everyone. Parents, siblings, cousins, old classmates – it was a never ending whirl of conversations and meals and telling the same stories over and over again. Hajime went over to Oikawa's house on the first day to say hi, but the minute he'd said hello to Oikawa – who was tanned and dressed casually in polo shirt and shorts and possibly a little taller than before, damn his stupid face – Takeru had come bowling into the two of them and demanded a game of tag and then Oikawa's parents had shown up and it had all turned into one large family gathering.

It was _just_ frustrating enough that Hajime wanted to punch something.

But then Oikawa showed up at his doorstep on the third day and said, "Do you want to go for a walk?"

He was all sunny and smiling and familiar. Hajime looked at him and wanted to kiss him, badly, but just said, "Sure."

Sunset was just beginning as they walked out, side-by-side, and the air was warm; they walked across a footbridge and towards a nearby river, where a tangle of bushes and wildflowers grew, and insects circled lazily in the air.

They were silent for a very long time, until Hajime got tired of it. "What do you want, Oikawa?"

"Do you love me, Iwa-chan?"

"Yes," Hajime said, barely having to think about it, and went, "wait, has _that_ been bothering you for six months? You could have _asked_."

"I said it, but you never said it back!"

"You are a stupendous idiot," Hajime said, trying and failing to think of an insult fit for the occasion, "I cannot believe-"

"Miyako-chan said the two of you were spending lots of time together in college. I thought you were interested in her again. I should have killed her when I had the chance." Oikawa's words tumbled out in a rush. "Iwa-chan, you're so _mean_."

"_You're_ the one who confessed first and then _withdrew_ it."

"Because what if you said that you loved me and then changed your mind? If you find a girlfriend somewhere else I'm going to murder her and then make the body disappear. And then I'll tie you up in a basement so you can't meet anyone else ever ever again."

Hajime kicked him, but not very hard. "And exactly how were you going to do that?"

"Ow!" Oikawa gave him an injured look. "This is the worst love confession I've ever received."

"Well then, we'll have to make it better, right?" Hajime sighed. "Come closer."

Oikawa closed the distance between them and brought their faces together and then for a little while the whirr of insects, the scent of wildflowers, the thrum of cars in the distance, all went forgotten as they explored each other's mouths. They ended up a tangle of limbs on the grass, shared body heat adding to the heat of the summer day.

"That's enough," Hajime decided, pulling away before everything went too far. Oikawa looked flushed and unhappy at the abrupt cessation of their makeout.

Hajime took pity on him. "Oikawa Tooru, I'm not going to repeat myself, so listen carefully: I love you, you stupid ass."

Oikawa blinked. "For real?"

"Yes." Dumbfounded was a good look on Oikawa, Hajime decided. He got to his feet and then held out one hand to pull Oikawa up as well. "Should we go tell your sister we're dating?"

"She doesn't think I'm good enough for you," objected Oikawa. "She'll never forgive me."

"She probably thinks we've been together since middle school," said Hajime, as they left the riverside and walked out together towards the main road. The daylight had started to fade; tree-shadows covered their tracks.

"Oh," said Oikawa. "Uh – is she right about that?"

"No, she wasn't," corrected Hajime. "But she is now."

**End.**


End file.
